Chris Pourteau - Tails of the Apocalypse

“Lemon?” she asked.

“Apple,” he said, holding it out. She pretended not to notice. He looked around at the crackling fire as the linoleum bubbled and blackened at the edge. The puppies were cowering against his legs, and the kittens had jumped onto shelving units to get as far away from the flames as possible. “How are we going to keep you safe from the smoke? We can’t breathe it either.”

“Hello, Paws and Claws,” said Surly, trying to suggest a door. She snatched the apple slice as payment. But Joe didn’t get it. Instead, he returned her to her cage and stood up to open the door to the back room. The puppies hurtled past him as much attracted by the smell of Princess as driven by fear of the fire.

“Joe, get these dogs out of here, they’re trying to grab the pork,” yelled Walt.

“Got to let the smoke out somewhere,” said Joe.

“Relax, Walt,” said Gray, “give ’em a hoof or an ear or something.”

A bright square of light stretched across the floor, and a blast of chilled air hit Surly. The back exit was open! She smashed herself into her cage’s door, forgetting that Joe had closed the latch. Shaking her head to clear it, she began lifting the catch carefully with her beak, just as Gray yelled at Joe to close the door.

“You’re going to attract someone’s attention!”

“There’s no one out there, Gray,” Joe protested. “Look for yourself. It’s all clear. You’re way too jumpy. We should just drop the herd off at that City and go. We’ll go south, live where it’s warm and the fishing is good. I heard it’s practically empty in Florida, got evacuated early. Lots of stuff just waiting for us. We don’t need the Infected. What do you say?”

Surly managed to undo the latch and pushed at the door with the top of her head. There was a shuffle as Gray moved to the open exit door. “We aren’t leaving until we trade the herd.”

“But why?” asked Joe. “We don’t need the traders’ stuff. We can all be comfortable—”

“Because I listened to one of your rumors before. Remember how that turned out? Sure didn’t have a problem chopping up the Infected then, did you, Joe? And all I had to show for that was a string of shriveled ears and a broken arm. Maybe Florida is paradise, like you heard. I’m willing to bet that story is as made up as the cure, but who knows? I just want some insurance first. Unless, of course, you want me to start thinking you set me up back home. That maybe you thought that dumb broad in the police station was going to take care of me and let you go your merry way with all my earnings. Is that what you want me to start thinking, Joe?”

Surly fluttered out of the cage to the floor. She didn’t want to risk being seen, and she didn’t want to be up near the ceiling in the thick smoke. She scuttled toward the back door, keeping one eye on the kittens, who were licking their chops. Their tails rippled and twitched.

“No, of course not,” started Joe.

“Then stop being a coward—”

Surly had made it to the entrance of the back room. Across from her stood Joe and Gray in the frame of the open exit door. Walt was hacking off bits of pork from Princess’s body, the puppies who hadn’t gotten Gray’s bribe watching him anxiously. Surly tried not to look.

Joe’s face turned red. “I’m not being a coward. I didn’t know the bounty thing was a bad rumor. I wouldn’t put you in that spot, Gray. But this is—this isn’t right. What if these people wake up? What if they get better and find out they got no teeth, that they’re slaves? It’s not like the people we sell them to are all going to treat them kindly. Some of them might get hurt. Some of them might get killed. Or—or used . They’re people .”

“They’re cattle. Dumb, useless beasts. Monsters even.”

Joe shook his head. “You’re more a monster than any of them have ever been. At least they kill to eat—”

Gray’s fist shot out and slammed into Joe’s face. He grabbed the ax from Joe’s belt and pulled it out. Gray held it up. “You better watch it, Joe,” he hissed as Joe cupped a hand around his nose. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days. You got anything else you want to say? Any other precious pieces of kumbaya shit you want to spread around?”

Joe shook his head, blood leaking from under his hand and splatting to the floor in front of Surly. She hopped nervously.

“Then shut the fucking door before a rival group or the Infected see us. You can open the transom instead, that’ll suck out the smoke without leaving us open to attack.”

Joe reached out to shut the door and Surly’s heart sank. The dangerous man was winning at every turn. She watched Walt climb up to the small window in the back room and crank it open. Even she wouldn’t fit through that, not without falling to the ground outside and injuring herself.

Gray carefully slid the ax back into Joe’s belt. “Joe,” he said quietly, “you know I’m your friend. Let me lead. Let me take care of you. You know you don’t have the brain power to survive this alone. I got your back. But if you ever talk back to me again, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out. You got it?”

Joe just nodded.

“Good,” said Gray, a little louder, “let’s get that bacon sizzling then, I’m starving!”

He turned toward the front of the shop and saw Surly. He scowled. “And get this damned chicken back in its cage. I don’t want birdshit on my dinner.” He aimed a kick at her, but Surly just fluttered out of the way.

Walt carried a big metal dog bowl of bloody meat past her without stopping. Joe sank down into the owner’s office chair and tried to stop his nosebleed with the tissues sitting there. Surly Shirley hopped over to the desk. She flew up to the top of it and landed in front of Joe, watching him. He reached out with his clean hand and stroked her feathers. She didn’t bite him this time. “Pretty bird,” she cooed, ducking her head under his fingers.

“Yes, you’re a pretty bird,” he said softly, his words muffled under his hand.

Surly hopped up onto his shoulder, walking herself sideways to his ear. “Pretty bird, Pretty, pretty. Joe,” she said, trying out the new word. “Pretty Joe.”

Joe laughed. “Not anymore. Gonna have a crook in my face now.” She wasn’t sure what his face had to do with it. She tried to praise him again.

“Pretty Joe,” she repeated and fluttered down to the floor. “Lemon?” she asked, trying again.

“Sorry, fresh out of lemons. I think the only place with lemons is a greenhouse near home.”

Ah well, she thought, apples are acceptable. She tapped her beak on the exit door. “Pretty Joe, Surly Shirley. Nuh-night.”

He wrinkled his brow. “You practicing your words?” he asked.

“Nuh-night, Paws and Claws.” She tapped the door again, trying to make him understand.

“You want to go to sleep?” He reached out a hand for her.

“Pretty Joe, Surly Shirley, Nuh-night Paws and Claws.” She squawked, getting desperate. She flew past the open window and then back. How could she get him to see that they needed to leave?

“Soup’s on, Joe,” yelled Gray. “Come get it before these damn dogs do. And stop talking to that chicken.”

Joe stood up. He grabbed another fistful of tissues from the box and mashed them against his nose. “C’mon, Shirley, time to get back in your cage now. You don’t want me to get into trouble again, do you?”

“Pretty Joe,” Shirley cooed and flew, disappointed, back into her cage.

The smoke from the small fire filled the shop, floating through the broken display window and transom. It made Surly and the other animals sleepy, but the smell of cooking pork soon attracted a small but raucous group of humans. They joked with each other as they stood in line for a share of the cooked pig. Walt chewed on a bone before tossing it to the drooling puppies, who battled for it.